Predictions
by Tiquismiquis
Summary: Frederick and Cordelia plan for a hypothetical child in a perfectly regular, normal way. At least, it's normal for them.


_Author's Note: For Julystorm's birthday! She wanted something fluffy/funny and gave me a bunch of FE pairings to pick from, but obviously this one caught my eye. I don't think there's any angst-free Frederick/Cordelia in the entire fandom yet._

* * *

Frederick liked to leave the candles burning because afterward he could watch Cordelia's face across the pillow. Flushed cheeks, sweat at her temples, and the feline smile he was pretty sure only he knew existed, the one that meant she was utterly satisfied. He always did his best.

They were still holding hands, fingers locked while they caught their breath like swimmers in the shallows afraid to drift apart, so he squeezed hers.

"I love you," he said.

She leaned forward and left a brief, breathless kiss on his lips. "I love you, too," seemed too forced a thing to say, after all the nights he'd heard her say it in her sleep to another man, so she used gestures instead. Frederick preferred it, too. Words could anchor you, could swear you to something forever, but they were easier to break than your actions.

His eyes slipped shut as his heartbeat finally slowed. She shifted up—he assumed to blow the candles out, but the darkness didn't come. He opened his eyes again.

"Cordelia?"

She had taken the notebook from the bedside drawer again and was attractively gnawing at the end of her pencil. He pushed himself up, with some effort, to put his chin on her shoulder and watch the pages in her lap. Each was filled with various squares and numbers and charts; things she'd been talking to Miriel about during the day. Predictions, every one.

"Cordelia, I do believe we have mapped out every possible trait," he said. He believed it because he had triple-checked them, had traced every line with a finger and wished fervently for the future.

"No, we forgot ears. Who did you inherit yours from?"

"My father."

"They're rounder than mine. Hmm."

"Does it matter?"

She smiled at him then, a little sheepishly. "I'm just so curious."

He blinked down at the pages again. His brown eyes against her rose ones, according to the charts, would win out in any child they had. His darker hair would do the same. But her cheekbones were dominant, with every member of her family possessing the same sharp ones, as well as the little lift to her nose.

"I think this can wait, if either of us are to get our nightly eight hours." With all this talk of ears, Frederick kissed hers.

"It can wait," she agreed, and let him pull her back to the pillow. His eyelids dragged shut again. She whispered, "I can't wait for a baby, though."

"Nor I. A baby with your fingers and my feet and a mystery chin..." Results had been inconclusive, there.

"Only seven more months," she said.

"Right. Only seven—what?" He sat bolt-upright, now entirely awake. "Cordelia, what did you say?"

"Ooh, you always overreact. I shouldn't have told you right before bed."

"This is no jest, is it?"

"No." She pulled him down and gave him that satisfied smile of hers again. "Ylisse has been at peace for years, we've been married for even longer than that, and soon we'll finally have our child."

He clutched at her, hands wandering everywhere: her breasts, still the same size but about to swell; her stomach, still flat but about to do the same. He pushed himself under the sheets to kiss it all and surfaced again.

"I am so happy," he told her.

"That's not what the Frederick I know would say. He'd ask if I was positive. He'd want me consulting other women and healers first thing in the morning."

"Well, of course. And once you do we'll need a crib. And baby shoes. Clothes for you. A new budget plan. I'll have to knit them a hat. I should start doing that right now. "

He sat up to do so, fluttery and excited. She pulled him down yet again and pressed herself against him. The fluttering increased. The satisfaction was gone from her eyes, replaced with a dark warmth.

"The Frederick I know," she murmured, "likes to make doubly sure."

"Triply, actually."

"I don't know if you'll be able to stay awake after 'doubly,'" she teased.

"For our peace of mind, I shall manage."

Frederick liked to leave the candles burning because then he could see the love in her eyes, which he'd once thought he would never see. But when they burned out of their own accord, unable to keep pace, she had pulled him into yet another kiss, so he hardly noticed.

* * *

_Author's Note: Bonus: Severa shows up before Cordelia gets pregnant and Cordelia's like "That's it we have the perfect child Frederick we've done it we're good," and Severa snickers while Frederick watches his sex life collapse in an instant. ("We are supposed to get this back when you are an adult, Severa." "Deal with it, Dad.")_

_But you can't look me in the eye and tell me these dorks would not obsessively create Punnett Squares to try and predict to a T how their kids will look, because they can't stand not knowing things/being right about them. They'd probably also start pushing karate, piano, and AP Calculus as soon as the kid turns two. We're sorry, Severa._


End file.
